I had to bring back the Santos Smut! I missed it terribly. Just a little naughty night-time read for the Tarts. Enjoy!
A loud crack of gunshot rang out across the O'Malley's Irish Pub parking lot. Several bar patrons standing by the front door screamed and scattered across the lot like cockroaches when the lights were turned on. My view was promptly obstructed by a large bulk of thick muscle and black clothing, otherwise known as Tank.
"Get into the truck," he hissed to me, unholstering his Glock and chambering a round.
No problem.
I hit the ground running and didn't stop until I was crouched in the "tornado drill" position on the backseat floor of the shiny black Cadillac Escalade, the door shut and locked behind me. Not an easy feat, since I was decked out in a tiny jeans skirt, four-inch FMPs, and a red tank top that could really only be classified as a scrap of Lycra.
My breathing was heavy and echoed in my ears as I panted into the Escalade's floor carpeting, wondering how in the hell I manage to get myself into these situations. Ronnie DiPaulis was a piece of rotten turd stuck to the ass of Trenton's finest career criminal, Johnny Spades. He did all of Spades's dirty work just so he wouldn't end up in the Camden Landfill or thrown into the Delaware with a fifty-pound anvil tied to his bony ankle. Aside from being FTA and hiding from both the fuzz and from the fine gentlemen of RangeMan Enterprises, DiPaulis had somehow gotten onto Spades's bad side by botching a "business deal" with crime boss Freddy Fingers and his gang of bumbling cohorts.
In other words, things weren't looking good for Ronnie DiPaulis.
Vinnie had posted DiPaulis's ridiculously-high bond a few weeks ago, and when the old court date rolled around DiPaulis was nowhere to be found. It was rumored that he'd faked his own death to escape punishment from Spades and to evade an inevitable prison sentence for setting a Citgo on fire in protest of rising gas prices. So when RangeMan had received Intel that DiPaulis was tossing back a few pints of Guinness and shooting the shit at O'Malley's, I'd of course been at the top of the list to do the distraction.
Lucky me.
The driver's side door to the Escalade was wrenched open and I felt the SUV shift with the weight of a body climbing into the seat. D & G cologne mixed with sweat wafted into my nostrils as the truck's engine caught and I knew it was Lester who'd joined me. He slammed the door shut and turned his head to face me in the backseat.
"You can get up now, beautiful," he said, smiling at me. "We lost him, anyway. Motherfucker took off on a crotch rocket."
"You're kidding," I muttered. "After all that?" I crawled over the center console to the front cabin and managed to trip on a cell phone charger cord while I was at it. When I was safely situated in the passenger's seat and buckled in, Lester removed his two-way and set the radio with receiver wiring into a compartment on the dashboard.
"He's not all that happy with you right now," Lester said. "Said was looking forward to taking you back to his place and getting laid." With one last knee-weakening lopsided grin thrown in my direction, Lester put the Escalade into gear and rolled out of the parking lot. "I'll take you home."
"Thanks," I said.
The drive to my apartment was pretty quiet. I was coming off of a serious adrenaline rush and I felt myself begin to nod off ten minutes into the ride. I managed to stay awake, though, because I wanted to be coherent when Lester dropped me off at my front door. It took us about a half-hour to get back to the Burg because of the traffic coming out of the Prudential Center near Newark. The New Jersey Devils had a home game.
"I'll make sure you get in okay," Les volunteered when we pulled into my lot. He helped me out of the passenger's seat and walked with me up the stairs to the second floor. We approached my door and that's when I saw a piece of yellow notebook paper folded and stuck in between the jamb and the knob.
"What the hell is this?" I unfolded the paper and frowned as I began reading:
You sure as hell distracted me tonight, Miss Plum. It was unfortunate that our time together was cut short due to the scurmish with Manoso's thugs. I was hoping that you'd be home already, but either you haven't yet returned or else you're not answering your door. Which wouldn't be a good decision, because doing that would cause me to become very angry with you. Don't worry. I'll be back, and then we'll be able to share some quality time. Yours, Ronnie
Great. Another nutcase stalker to add to the list. Ronnie DiPaulis had figured out who I was and where I lived in the short time since he'd shot at Bobby before taking off on a Ducati until now. As if he wasn't in enough trouble. Lester had been reading the note over my shoulder and I could practically feel the tense waves of anger rolling off of his six-foot-three frame as he scanned it. He whipped the note out of my hands and crumbled it up into a ball before stomping on it with his Bates boot.
"Feel better?" I asked him, smiling and raising my eyebrows.
"No." Lester uncrumpled the note and smoothed it out. "I'll save this for the Stalkers and Nutcases file." He folded the note neatly and placed it in the back pocket of his baggy cargoes. I removed my keys from my shoulder bag and unlocked my door. My apartment was dark and quiet. Rex was running on his wheel. My refrigerator hummed and my a/c kicked on. And I was absolutely terrified to stay here alone, but of course I didn't broadcast this to Santos just yet.
"Thanks for coming up with me," I said to Lester. I watched as he swept through all the rooms, gun drawn, to make sure there weren't any corpses in my closet or deranged madmen lurking behind my shower curtain. When all was clear, he re-entered my bedroom and located a small overnight bag in my closet.
"If you think I'm leaving you here as stalker-bait, you're fucking crazy." Lester began loading clothes from my drawers into the bag.
"What are you doing?" I exclaimed. "Where am I going to go, then?"
"I'm taking you back to RangeMan with me." He held up a lavender lace thong and bit his lip, groaning. "Christ. Thinking about you in this stuff will be the death of me."
I snatched the thong from him and jammed it into the bag. "I can pack my own underwear, thank you," I muttered, blushing. I filled the bag with my necessary toiletries and handed it to him when I was done.
"Get Rex and lock up. I'll meet you down in the lot." Lester took my bag and stalked down the hall, leaving me to lock the door. I set the answering machine before shutting the door behind me and took off towards the stairwell. When I reached the Escalade, Lester had the engine running and had placed my overnight bag and pillow on the backseat. I carted Rex into the passenger's seat with me and Les eased the truck out of my lot and onto St. James.
He whipped out his cell and dialed Tank on speakerphone as we headed in the direction of Haywood.
"What's your twenty?" he asked Tank.
"At headquarters," Tank replied. "Bossman is on the line with Dominguez, wanting an update on DiPaulis. Dominguez had no choice but to tell him what happened."
"When will Ranger be back in town?" Les countered.
"Tuesday, at the earliest. Could be as late as Friday. Don't know at this point."
"Well, DiPaulis figured out who Steph is and where she lives. He went to her apartment after he took off from O'Malley's and left a note on her door. Looks like she's got herself another stalker. I've got her with me and I'm bringing her back to h.q. until DiPaulis is captured."
"Ten-four. I'll page Ella and have her prepare the empty apartment."
"Thanks, man." Lester disconnected and tossed his cell onto the dashboard. He cut his sparkling chocolate eyes to mine and I smiled in gratitude that he was so willing and eager to help me.
The vacant apartment on four was nice enough, but it felt sterile. No personal touches of design, no signs that anything fun had once gone on there. It was perfectly nice, don't get me wrong. The decor was modern and tasteful, comfortable and casual chic blended together in an outdoorsy, manly way. But it needed...life.
I got Rex all set up on the kitchen counter and had Lester put my overnight bag in the master bedroom. He turned on a few lights and shut the living room drapes before leaning against the front door jamb with his arms crossed.
"You gonna be okay in here?" he asked me.
I nodded. "At least it's safe from men who'd like to have me for dessert," I joked.
Lester stared at me for a minute and raised an eyebrow. "Is it?" he asked me quietly.
I felt a delicious thump in my nether-regions and brushed off his comment, since Lester Santos is the king of sexual innuendo. I made a face at him and looked around the darkened, quiet apartment. I felt lonely already, although Lester was still standing there with me.
"I'll be fine. Thanks, Les." I reached up and kissed his cheek before opening the door for him.
He was halfway out into the hall when he turned back around to look at me. "You could always stay with me," he suggested. "I'll let you have my room. Ella just put clean sheets on the bed."
"I couldn't put you out like that," I told Lester. "Where would you sleep?"
"I have a really awesome couch."
I laughed. "Thanks, but I think I'm okay in the extra apartment. I really appreciate you being there for me tonight, though."
"Anytime, beautiful." With a panty-ruining smile, Lester headed down the hall and disappeared into his apartment. I went back into my loaner apartment and locked myself inside with a sigh. I needed a hot shower and something to eat. I went into the kitchen and located a tray with a small cauldron of soup and a covered bread basket that Ella must have left for me. I gave a chunk of bread to Rex and stuck the cauldron in the microwave to heat while I figured out the plasma in the living room. I managed to find Saturday Night Live and carried my heated soup into over to the couch.
When I was filled with warm vegetables and noodles, I stripped out of my slutty distraction clothes and left them in a heap in the hallway. The shower in the RangeMan apartment was heavenly and I instantly felt better when the steamy spray hit my skin. When I was soaped, shampooed, conditioned, shaved, and lotioned, I pulled on a pair of soft gray cotton cheekies and a baby pink cotton tank top and collapsed into bed.
My brain was having a hard time comprehending sleep for some reason. My thoughts kept drifting to the apartment three doors down and to its incredibly sweet, downright sexy occupant. I wondered what Santos was up to in there. Was he fresh from a shower? Was he asleep? Was he on the phone? Was he...thinking about me, too?
That last part scared me a little. I wasn't sure if I wanted Lester to be thinking about me in that way. Ranger popped into my mind, and I quickly laid my head back down on my pillow. There was no way that I'd ever act on any kind of Lester-induced impulses knowing Ranger was lurking around. Wait a second. Ranger was in Tampa at a security conference. Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie, I chided myself. Lester was one of my best friends and has been for quite some time. We shared secrets, complained about men/women, and went out often. But somewhere along the lines, our playful innuendo wasn't seeming all that playful anymore.
I decided to bite the bullet and find out if Lester wanted company. I threw on pink plaid boxers and grabbed my pillow and cell phone before heading down the hall to suite 408. I knocked quietly and waited while Les tumbled the locks and threw open his door, fresh from a shower and wearing a white tank top and black basketball shorts.
A slow smile spread across his face as he took me in. "Look what the rat dragged over," he husked out. "A little lonely in there?"
"A little," I agreed, pushing past him and walking into his apartment.
Lester shut the door behind me and leaned against it. "Mi casa es su casa."
"Thanks," I told him. "What have you been up to?" I wandered into his living room and took a seat on the plush black leather couch. He followed and sat across from me in a matching recliner.
"I was just about to play a friendly game of Xbox Live," he said, holding up a wireless controller and a small headset. "There's this punk kid in Detroit who keeps talking shit to me when we play Forza Motorsport 3. I was planning to destroy his fucking ass tonight."
I couldn't help but laugh. Lester Santos, thirty-year-old teenager. "Go right ahead," I said to him.
"There's Corona in the fridge," he said, pointing to my right. "If you get one, bring me one, too."
I carried two beers into the living room and handed one to Lester. "I thought Bobby and Manny usually play Xbox with you," I said, seating myself back onto the sofa. He was right; his couch was pretty fantastic.
"They're being sell-outs," Lester said, making a face. "Besides, I'd much rather have you here with me instead of them, anyways. Pacheco always punches my couch pillows when he makes dumb mistakes and Brown's a really sore loser." Lester put the Xbox controller and headset back on top of his entertainment center and joined me on the couch with his beer.
I blushed. "That's sweet," I said, smiling. "But what happened to destroying that kid in Detroit's ass? He won't understand why you're not playing with him if you tell him you're just sitting here with some chick in your apartment who's taking up all your gaming time."
"He'll understand when he turns eighteen." Lester grinned wickedly and took a pull off his Corona. "Sorry about your stalker tonight."
Rolling my eyes, I answered, "It's really okay. How pathetic is the fact that I'm no longer all that creeped out by stuff like this? It happens to me so often I'm almost desensitized from it. Sure, I'd be scared to death alone in my apartment tonight with DiPaulis on the loose, looking for a warm place to hide his salami. But truthfully, I think it scares everyone else more than it scares me."
Lester nodded in agreement. "I can get with that," he said softly. "How are things between you and the boss?"
This earned him another eyeroll. "There's nothing between me and the boss. Ever since that blow-out between me and Morelli happened, both of them have backed off almost completely. Joe dumped me for some young Burg woman who will more than gladly stay home to cook and clean and raise his children. Ranger keeps leaving town on his madman missions, only to return in a mood worse than what he left in. I can't read him anymore. I have no idea what he expects from me, and vice versa. We've pretty much hit a standstill until one or both of us snaps out of the funk." I turned to look Lester in the eye. "And you know what, Lester? I'm not all that sure about what I want from him anymore, if anything at all."
Lester took all of that in with a serious regard. "I hear you." He took another pull off of his Corona. "I hope you don't feel guilty about spending time with me, then."
"Not at all. I'm happy to be here. I really owe you one for tonight."
His eyes took on a wicked gleam and a naughty smile graced his full, rosy lips. "I've heard that before..."
"Not from me, you haven't." I finished the last of my beer and set the empty bottle onto the coffee table before heading into the kitchen to get another. When I came back out into the living room, Lester was messing with the remote to the plasma. He watched me open my second beer and raised an eyebrow before turning back to the TV.
"Better be careful," he said, his eyes glued to a rerun of the latest UFC Championship fight. "That's your second beer. We wouldn't want to end up making out again."
My mouth dropped open and my stomach went into a free-fall. How dare he bring that up! When I found my voice, I stammered, "That was over a year ago! And it was your fault, too. You kept force-feeding me tortilla chips and margaritas at that Mexican place!"
"Hey. It was your decision to swallow them. Besides, I didn't hear you complaining." Lester glanced over at me, smirking.
My cheeks were burning, along with other unmentionable places. "I knew you'd bring that up," I muttered. "I could have killed Bobby and Hal for leaving us alone after drinking four margaritas each. You seduced me!"
Lester put his lips next to my ear. He smelled orgasmic, like a combination of sexy body wash and Corona. "Baby," he whispered. "You've been seducing me since I met you."
A groan escaped my throat at his words. This wasn't supposed to be happening. I'd decided against this. "Lester."
He pushed away from me, chuckling. "I always did know how to get a rise out of you, Steph." Lester smacked his lips together. "I've still got it."
I stood up, annoyed with how arrogant he was acting about our one-time encounter. "I'm glad you find all of this funny, Santos. It's been a long day. I think I'll just go ahead and make myself comfortable in your bed, if you don't mind." I walked my half-empty Corona bottle into the kitchen and passed by him on my way to his bedroom.
"I don't mind a bit. Do me a favor and bring me my pillow?" Lester held out his hand. I retrieved his pillow and placed it in his outstretched arm. "Sweet dreams."
"Likewise," I replied. I planned on locking the door to make sure he didn't join me in the middle of the night. Who was I kidding? I was going to lock the door to make sure that I didn't join him in the middle of the night.
The thrashing and kicking that my legs were doing kept me from falling into a deep sleep. The fact that Lester was one room away in an apartment that contained only the two of us had me hot and extremely bothered. The dull ache at the apex of my thighs needed attention desperately and the more I thought about it, the worse of an idea I knew it would be. Sleeping with Lester might only bring about confusion and more unfinished business. And what about Ranger? What if he were to find out? The repercussions would be disastrous. Maybe. Maybe not.
I unlocked his bedroom door and slowly opened it, peering out into the darkness of the hallway. I could hear Rex running on his wheel and the refrigerator in the kitchen whirring into the defrost cycle. The clock on the microwave read 2:30. A small lamp was on in the living room, illuminating the area enough for me to see the furniture. Light snoring caused my head to turn to the left, towards the couch. Lester.
Sure enough, there he was. He was sprawled across the black leather sofa, on his belly, with his fists up towards his face like an infant. He was shirtless and his black basketball shorts were inching further and further down his waist with each breath he took.
I crept up to him. His pillowy lips were parted as he respirated deeply, in and out. His long black eyelashes rested against his caramel cheekbones. His abuela's ornate gold crucifix chain had twisted and the cross was now sitting on the back of his neck. A dusting of fine black hair covered a small patch of skin on his lower back. The rest of his back, however, was completely hairless and was all rippling muscles and smooth, dark skin.
Holy hotness.
My mouth watered as I stared down at him and watched him slumber peacefully. His cell was sitting on the coffee table, the little green diode blinking intermittently. Under his head was the pillow that I'd handed him, covered with a navy blue Ralph Lauren pillowcase.
I felt a surge of unwanted hormones flood my body at that moment. I did my best to try to quell them, but I was unsuccessful at every attempt. My cheeks flamed and my lower half was absolutely on fire. What was going on with me? I tiptoed away from Les and locked myself into his bathroom. I sat down on the closed toilet seat after soaking a washcloth with cold water and held it to my scalding cheeks and neck. When the washcloth was no longer doing its job of cooling me off, I got up from the toilet seat and, for lack of something better to do, I ran a comb through my brown curls. I felt a little more relief, but not much.
I unlocked the bathroom door and crept quietly through the darkened apartment into the kitchen, passing Lester on the way. He was still in the same position but his head was now turned to face the couch cushions. I squelched a slight twinge in between my thighs as I continued on my way to his kitchen pantry. A box of Reese's Puffs was staring brightly back at me and I suddenly got very excited.
"Well, hello," I murmured to the box as I extracted it from the shelf and carried it to the counter. I was pouring out a bowl when I sensed movement behind me. When I whirled around, Lester was standing behind me rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"Hey, beautiful," he mumbled. He walked up to me and kissed my cheek before opening the fridge. "Sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to piss you off."
When I recovered, I managed to get out, "That's okay. I shouldn't have taken it so seriously. So we made out. Big deal."
Lester smirked. "Still thinking about it, hunh?" He removed a gallon of milk from the fridge and shut the door.
"Have been for a year." I poured milk into my Reese's Puffs and located a spoon in the cutlery drawer before handing the carton of milk back to him.
"That makes two of us."
Lester set the milk down and poured himself a bowl of the Reese's Puffs. We stood at the counter and ate in comfortable silence until he let out a huge burp before putting his bowl in the sink.
"That's nasty," I teased as he turned red.
"My bad," he replied, smirking. I watched as his eyes followed the curves of my bottom and darkened. Yikes. Not good. Santos, I knew for a fact, was totally an ass-man. It occurred to me that I was standing in Lester's kitchen with him, wearing my freaking underwear. I suddenly wished I'd remembered to put my boxers on before coming out of the bedroom earlier.
I took a banana out of the fruit bowl on the counter and began slicing it up while Lester stood next to me, watching the actions of my hands intently.
"You want a piece?" I asked huskily, looking up at him. His eyes were blackened to almost onyx and I could see raw lust and desire pool in his gaze. I caught on immediately and raised an eyebrow.
He never broke my stare as he whispered, "Of what?"
Lester knew exactly what I was referring to, but he was the king of seductive innuendo. He wrote the book on how to wear down a woman until she turned to mush. Shit. I was a fucking goner. I gave him a once-over and wasn't surprised to see that he was hard in his basketball shorts. Turning my head back towards the banana, I squashed the fluttering in my stomach and the heat in my groin with thoughts of Grandma Mazur and old Sol Kellerstein, doing it down the road at the Super 8. I was once again unsuccessful.
"Banana," I replied quietly. I began slicing fervently and was suddenly extremely aware of the heat radiating off of his half-naked God form. He leaned his elbows on the granite countertop next to the cutting board and sucked his full bottom lip into his luscious mouth.
Lester ignored my question and I watched as his eyes met mine over the tops of his mile-long lashes. "Do you always go to bed in skimpy pajamas?" he asked, his voice about ten tones deeper than usual.
I sighed and stopped slicing. "Would you prefer me to be completely naked or dressed in a sweat suit the next time a looney-tunes stalker decides to play Fuck With Stephanie and forces me to have a sleepover at RangeMan headquarters?" I challenged him.
"Come on, Steph," he chuckled. "What do you think my answer would be?"
"Well, I'm crossing my fingers for the sweat suit."
"Mentirosa." Liar. The word rolled off of his tongue with ease and the sound was so sexy that I felt my knees go weak. I wondered if he talked dirty to his girlfriends in Spanish when they had sex. An unwarranted stab of jealously flashed through me at the thought. Lester grinned wickedly and pushed off of the counter before stepping around me to the fridge. He opened the door and pulled out a bottle of water.
I continued to slice the banana and desperately tried to push all thoughts of Lester fucking me senseless on the Spanish tile of his ornately-decorated modern kitchen. All that did was to serve as an engine for my overactive, hormonal imagination. Flashbacks of Lester's mouth sliding against mine as our tequila-coated tongues battled for control of the kiss entered my brain and I felt the tops of my thighs become sticky and wet. A small groan escaped from my lips and I squirmed ever-so-slightly against the cool granite countertop.
Lester was watching me and I didn't regret what he had just seen. He licked his lips and pushed off of the countertop again, coming to stand behind me. I was so absolutely turned on by him at the moment that my hands froze mid-slice and my nipples hardened to steel underneath my tank top.
He pressed himself up against my back and slowly circled my waist with his hands, bringing them to rest on my tummy underneath my tank top.
"Steph," he whispered to me, after sweeping a lock of curls to the side. I felt his soft, warm lips brush up against the shell of my ear and a fresh gush of wetness filled the crotch of my gray cheekies.
God help me, I wanted him so fucking bad. I'd had a death grip on the knife and I released it with a clatter onto the glass cutting board before thrusting my ass out to grind against his impossibly hard length through his silky shorts. My head went back against his shoulder and Lester tightened his grip on my waist before sliding his hands higher up my tank top, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
It was all happening in slow motion. I felt his thumbs slide slowly over my nipples and I whimpered loudly, unable to get control. Lester removed one of his hands from underneath my shirt and picked up my left hand, the hand that had been holding the banana. He brought it to his mouth and sucked it clean before turning me around in his arms and capturing my bottom lip in between his teeth, biting gently. He swept his tongue into my mouth then, filling it with his warmth and tasting like banana and Lester.
I moaned against his lips and kissed him back, slow and deep, feeling myself becoming more turned on than I'd ever been in my short, sad life. I pulled away breathlessly and put a hand on Lester's smooth, damp chest to stop him from drawing me closer again.
"We shouldn't do this."
He growled in frustration as he pushed my ass into the edge of the granite countertop with his hips. "You think I don't fucking know that?" he spat. He ran his hands through his short, spiky black hair and let out a harsh, quick sigh.
My Spidey-sense was telling me to abort at all costs and kick myself out of Lester's apartment. On the other hand, my hormones were telling me to take Lester into his bedroom and let him enter my body to cause our lust for one another to come to a grueling head.
The hormones won the battle, free and clear. I pulled his head back down to mine and dragged my tongue across his full bottom lip. Lester pulled his head back a little bit and gazed into my eyes.
"That kiss from last year, at Chevys," he began, his voice cracking and deep with desire. "How did that go again?"
I let him cock my knee up against his hip and he thrust his lower half in between my thighs, rubbing his length against my hypersensitive clit. "It was nothing like this."
"Hell no," Lester agreed. He placed a hot open-mouthed kiss at my pulse point that caused my brain cells to scramble.
My hands wove themselves into his hair as I pulled his face back down to mine. I placed my lips next to his ear and husked out, "This is way better."
With that, I fumbled with the waistband to his basketball shorts and removed his hard cock before slipping my soaked cheekies aside. Lester groaned as I held him in my hand and rubbed his head against the wetness dripping from my center. I guided him inside of me and he took over then, filling me to the hilt and burying his face in the juncture of my neck and shoulder.
"Christ, Stephanie," Lester said, his voice strained. "You feel so fucking good…God, I want to fuck you senseless until you beg me never to stop."
I felt myself gush at his words as he found his rhythm, me matching him thrust for thrust as we slowly moved together as one. He felt so good inside of me. My gaze met his and the lust in his eyes nearly took my breath away. "Then do it."
Lester slid out of me and walked me backwards into his bedroom, his tongue deep in my mouth and his front pressed against mine as we stumbled our way over to the California-king sized bed. He wrestled himself between my legs and pushed into me again.
He groaned long and loud as he began to move within me. I brought his lips to mine again and slid my mouth against his as our tongues danced together. I'd never wanted anyone so bad and from the way he was moving against me and sucking my neck, neither did he.
"Fuck," he grit out. "Come for me, baby. I want to feel you tight around me."
At his words, I burst into orgasm immediately, screaming his name and digging my fingernails into the smooth skin of his back. "My God!" I couldn't help but yell. I felt his fingertips slide against my throbbing clit as he thrust deeply into me.
"Shit," he grumbled. "Let it go, Steph. You're so fucking beautiful when I'm making you come." Lester pounded into me, watching me intently as I spasmed around his length. My contractions triggered his orgasm and he cried out into my neck as he shot off deep inside of my body, my name on his lips.
I'd never felt pleasure so intense in my life. Jesus.
Lester's cell ringing woke us earlier than I would have liked. We'd had sex two more times after that first round, and by then I was ready to drop dead and sleep for a year.
It was Tank on the line.
"TPD picked up DiPaulis," he informed Lester on the speakerphone. "He was hanging around near Steph's apartment building. Said he had all kinds of weapons and cords and tape on him."
I felt my stomach go weak and the clanging in my head forced Lester to shove my head between my legs and tell me to push against his hand.
"Fucking awesome, man," Lester barked out, still holding my head. "That crazy fuck."
"Steph's free to go back to her place, if she wants."
"Ten-four." Lester disconnected and turned to me. "Does she want to do that?"
I chuckled and shook my head. I felt a lot better and the clanging in my head had faded to a light ring. "No, she doesn't." I took the cell phone out of Lester's hands and pulled him back down onto the bed with me before kissing him hungrily. She definitely wanted to stay right where she was.